One New Year's Eve
by The Cleric
Summary: With their first and tentative 'date' interrupted by the machinations of a deranged supervillain, Bruce and Diana find themselves faced with a more eventful New Year's Eve than either of them could have imagined. COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

_Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice.  
_  
-Robert Frost

* * *

**Part I**

* * *

"I don't know how many times it will take for me to tell you," said Bruce Wayne in a measured voice, spreading his hands non-threateningly, "but once again, Wayne Enterprises has a _firm_ policy about negotiating with terrorists-"

The man who called himself Celsius cut him off with a brutal slap across the face, sending the billionaire toppling backward in the chair he was tied to. The room's other residents, namely Lucius Fox and a dozen other members of the company's experimental research arm let out a collective gasp. They weren't restrained like Bruce, but the silver-haired madman who had turned their New Year's Eve party into a hostage situation wasn't worried about heroics. He'd demonstrated what he could do by covering the entire window with foot-thick sheets of ice. No visibility in or out, and the cold was palpable. It was more than enough to ensure cooperation. At least from them.

Bruce Wayne himself was another matter. He'd shown a token semblance of awe at the ice generation trick, but not the abject terror that Celsius was used to. Angrily he pulled Bruce back into an upright position, securing a chair for himself at the same time. Turning it backward, he sat down to face his captive. "I want you to look at me, Bruce Wayne," he said, his voice edged with steel this time.

"I am," Bruce said. He was thinking 'poor man's Mr. Freeze', but also 'highly dangerous'. The ice trick had been impressive, and unlike Freeze he could do it without a gun. With preparation and the Arctic Batsuit this would be an entirely different situation. But here he didn't have so much as a batarang.

He gave mental sigh. Helluva day. And he was even supposed to have a date tonight. . .

Celsius clapped his hands together. "I know about this policy, Mr. Wayne. I'm not the incompetent that you take me for."

"Okay."

"However, I _also_ know that for every rule there are twice as many exceptions. This policy of yours is nothing to lose your life over. Or the lives of your employees here."

"You would kill us all just for a little bit of money," said Bruce, somehow managing to make the very idea sound ridiculous.

"No, no. . ." In Celsius' hand an ice sculpture began taking form. It was a crude likeness, but it was clearly Bruce Wayne himself. He waited til the sculpture had gained enough mass, and then let it topple to the floor where it shattered. "I would kill you all for a _lot_ of money. And not think twice about it."

* * *

Outside of the looming skyscraper, GCPD Commissioner Gordon, Hostage Negotiator Phil Ortega, Detectives Bullock and Montoya, and a fully-equipped SWAT team mapped out an extraction scenario in the freezing winter night. There was plenty of illumination from the spotlights and helicopters, but that did nothing for the cold.

"Damn shame," muttered Renee Montoya, rubbing her bare hands together for warmth. "Aside from this could it's a beautiful New Year's Eve. Too beautiful for something like this."

"Something like _what_?" growled Harvey Bullock, having finally managed to light his cigarette. He took a long drag and then turned back to the group. "We don't even know what the hell's going on up there."

"We know the basics," countered Gordon. There's a meta up there holding Bruce Wayne and thirteen Wayne Enterprises employees hostage. He initially demanded 20 million dollars for their release, but that number has since risen to 50 million. In cash.

"What communication avenue is he utilizing," Ortega wanted to know.

"Umm. . ." Gordon rifled through a few pages of notes. "Phone calls, three to be exact. All made to the precinct station. Very poorly planned- he has no idea exactly how he's supposed to get this money so he's left that up to us. Phone calls were of course made to the remainder of the board of directors, but we haven't gotten a single answer thus far."

"He already has Bruce and Lucius Fox," Montoya mused. "Why doesn't he just ask them how to get the cash."

Gordon looked up at the twentieth-floor window. It wasn't easy to tell from the ground, but he knew that the entire glass pane was covered from the inside with ice. Who knew what the hell was going in there. He turned to Montoya. "If you ask me, that's what he's doing right now."

* * *

"Tell me," said Celsius, "Do you know what temperature carbon dioxide freezes at?"

Bruce thought for a moment. "Something like negative seventy-nine degrees. Celsius, of course."

"Of course. Very impressive, by the way. Even I didn't know that one. When I have had occasion to freeze carbon dioxide, I just willed it colder and colder until it liquefied. Turned solid. It's a very fascinating thing to watch, really. Exhaled CO2, solidifying while some unfortunate soul is breathing it out. One of the most horrifying deaths I've ever witnessed. Would you like to know what happens when the very air you breathe suddenly reaches freezing point?"

"No."

"Then find a way to get me my money," said Celsius. "Or I'll show the young lady behind you. Firsthand. Maybe she'll even let a good scream before her tongue shatters and the moisture in her mouth and lungs freezes like a Thanksgiving turkey."

Someone, maybe the woman, started crying. Even Bruce looked a little pale. "You're insane."

"And you're wasting my time. Twelve people is a lot. I'd hate to start offing them one by one just to motivate some rich, pampered brat."

Bruce pursed his lips. "Alright. You'll have to get me to a phone."

* * *

"So tonight's the night huh" said Black Canary, punctuating the last syllable with a beautiful reverse aerial kick to the workout room's punching bag. Nearby Wonder Woman was lazily doing one-handed bench presses, the hydraulic weights set to a rather disappointing maximum. However, the sudden question fazed her concentration just enough to send the two tons of resistance crashing back down to the machine's antigravity cushions.

Diana sighed and extricated herself from the machine. "Word travels pretty fast up here, I see."

Canary did a few rapid-succession jabs, and then turned back to the Amazon. "It does, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. We're your friends- Bruce's too, in a way. And I for one think it's about time."

Diana felt her cheeks grow warm. "It's. . .nothing big. I'm not even sure what to call it, really-"

"Whoa, back up," chuckled Black Canary. "All I've heard is secondhand tidbits of info about you and Bruce's big date, or whatever you want to call it. But how did all this come about in the first place?"

Diana shrugged. "We were just talking one day, on patrol. There was a disturbance at some big Hollywood movie set, some occult movie that inadvertently ended up summoning a couple of real demons during filming. No big deal really, but he let it slip that _he_ was in a movie, once."

"Get out!"

"Why?"

Dinah paused, remembering that the other woman still didn't know some of the English turns of phrase that most native speakers took for granted. "It's an expression of disbelief," she explained.

"Oh, well yeah that's exactly how I reacted. Hard to imagine, right?"

"Totally. So what movie was it?" Canary pressed.

"Oh, I don't remember that. But at any rate, I kept teasing him about this movie and he kept insisting that it was just a minor appearance and all that, and eventually he just suggested that I come over and see it for myself."

"Come over. . ."

"To his mansion," Diana clarified.

"Oh." Dinah chuckled. "Smooth operator. Yeah, I'd call that one a date. And on New Year's Eve too, that's pretty romantic."

Diana seemed to perk up at this. "You think?"

Canary tapped her temple. "Voice of experience hon. Though I do wish Ollie would do stuff like that. His idea of romantic is baloney sandwiches and a Greenpeace rally."

Diana laughed at that. "I hate to admit it, but I'm nervous." She bit her lower lip. And softer, said, "I really like him Dinah."

"I know you do." Black Canary walked over and laid a hand on the Amazon's shoulder. "And you know what; I bet right now he's planning the perfect movie night. The best date either of you have ever had."

* * *

Bruce handed Celsius the phone. "My butler is in the process of withdrawing the cash from my private safe as we speak."

"All 50 million?"

"Yes," clipped Bruce."

"Yeah?" Celsius looked furtively around the room before his eyes settled back on Bruce. "Well, I hope so, because otherwise I'm seein a lot of obituaries with words like 'hypothermia' and 'frostbite' for tomorrow's newspaper."

Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the theatrics. Clearly this guy was nowhere near as clever as he tried to pretend he was. There was no 50 million in cash coming- it was a ridiculous thing to ask for in the first place unless you had a damn truck waiting to pick it up for transportation. Bruce, for fun, had done the calculations in his head after Celsius' first demand. Fifty million dollars was what, 50 _thousand_ hundred-dollar bills? You'd need dozens of industrial sized briefcases- at least fifty if not more. The sheer mass of Treasury-issued paper would weigh something like half a ton. It was ridiculous, and the only reason Bruce had told him that such an absurd request would be granted was to gauge the man's reaction. That he was something of a dimwit was clear, but it remained to be seen whether that would work in the hostages' favor or not.

His thoughts were interrupted by the increasingly-louder _thwop thwop thwop_ of a helicopter circling overhead. To Bruce's experience ear it was too swift for a news chopper. Probably part of the SWAT team that was no doubt gathered outside.

Celsius' gaze had swung up to the ceiling, as if he could see what was going on outside through the floors and steel girders. Truth be told, icing over the entire office window made it so he couldn't see a damn thing outside of the room.

He turned a pair of frigid eyes back on Bruce. "You! You signaled them didn't you? In that phone call."

"No. I didn't need to; the police department has procedures for hostage situations you know."

"Well, they must not value your lives too much then."

"More than they value yours. But hey, you must have planned for this, right?"

"I was supposed to have the money and be gone by now," snarled Celsius. "Not sitting on my ass waiting for the damn GCPD to come storming in with riot shields and guns blazing." He jabbed a finger at Bruce. "Your stalling's gonna start getting people killed. Don't make me demonstrate my dry ice trick-"

"You'll get your money," Bruce insisted. "It's just a matter of time- it is New Year's Eve after all."

Celsius pursed his lips, finally nodding at Bruce's logic. "I'll wait a bit longer. But time's running out. For all of you."

* * *

Diana showered and changed into some comfortable casual wear as she pondered the night's activities. She didn't bother getting ready for the 'date' itself just then, most of her makeup and good clothes were down planetside in the condo she stayed in while off-duty. Part of her wanted to go all out, best designer dress and everything. He'd seemed to like that black number from their dance in Paris*, if she recalled correctly.

Then again, he'd brought up the idea so nonchalantly. . .what if his thoughts weren't even traveling down those paths. Being on the receiving end of a 'let's just be friends' talk sounded about as appealing as a hot bath with Vandal Savage. So maybe it was best to-

Diana! came J'onn's telepathic summons. Please come to the Monitor Room immediately. There is a. . .situation.

* * *

"Fifth floor clear," crackled the SWAT team's leader over the radio. "Proceeding upward. Elevator's rendered inoperable here, some sort of flash-frozen-"

"We get the picture," Gordon said curtly."

"Right." More static, then, "Half of my team will take the East stairwell, the other half the West, effectively flanking this guy. Has Ortega talked to 'im yet?"

"That would be no," grumbled the hostage negotiator. "And it doesn't look like I'll have the chance either. This guy's not doing anything by the book- no open lines of communication, no firm demands. ..there's nothing to negotiate. Hell-"

Gordon's cell phone chose that moment to start ringing. "He shushed Ortega with a raised hand, flipping open the phone with his other. "Gordon here."

"Hello, Commissioner. This is Alfred Pennyworth. I've just received a very important phone call from Master Bruce."

"That's great. Where are you now Alfred?"

"Oh, I've already driven to the downtown area. I'm about a block away from your current position. You should be seeing me soon."

Gordon looked left, then right and did indeed see Alfred, walking briskly toward the Wayne Tower with a large black briefcase in each hand.

"The hell's he doin here?" Bullock muttered.

"So far, he's the only one to have received direct contact from that room's occupant in the last two hours," Gordon said sharply. "Right now, he's more useful than all of us put together." Alfred was within hearing range by now, and so the one the butler put down the suitcases, Gordon proceeded to make quick introductions and reintroductions.

Montoya gestured toward the briefcases. "What do we have here?"

"Why money of course. 1.8 million dollars to be exact."

"That's a lot of money," said Gordon. "And nowhere enough at the same time."

"True," Alfred conceded, "but it's what they contain that's important. You see, Master Bruce and I long ago planned for such contingencies as this. There is a facial recognition camera in each of these briefcases, programmed to trigger a jet of knockout gas when it recognizes the individual in question. I've spent the past half hour programming it to recognize our maniacal friend Celsius, and the sleep compound is highly potent. He will literally be unconscious before he hits the ground."

Gordon let out a low whistle. "Impressive, though it sounds a bit risky. If it fails, then all we've done is antagonize him and maybe cost innocent civilians their lives."

"It won't fail," Alfred said with complete confidence. "And as for antagonizing this man. . .the SWAT teams that you have currently infiltrating the building will do that and more by themselves."

"Are you saying I should call them off?"

"Yes. For now. The briefcase ploy may be a simple one but it is a countermeasure that has worked in the past."

Gordon mulled this over for a moment, and then brought up his radio. "SWAT team Alpha, stand down."

"What?!" came the incredulous reply. "Sir, we're on the verge of successfully breeching-"

"I know. However it has come to my attention that Bruce Wayne has a countermeasure in play that might be less risky."

"The billionaire? With all due respect he can barely tie his own shoes!"

Alfred seemed to bristle at this but said nothing.

Gordon sighed. "Be that as it may, we are dealing with a metahuman here with very lethal abilities."

The SWAT team's leader sounded like he was about to protest further when suddenly a piercing scream cut through the air, clearly audible even over Gordon's radio connection.

Silence. Then: "Orders be damned, we're going in," The team leader said tersely.

The connection went dead.

* * *

"Oops," chuckled Celsius. "Honestly, I didn't mean to do that."

"You bastard," bit out the office secretary, breathing heavily. The reason was the shard of ice embedded in the wall inches from her head. She was shaking, tears of pure terror streaming down her face.

"Honest," said the metahuman apologetically. "These powers. . .it's really hard to maintain precise control you know. Though I think it would probably help ease my nerves if Mr. Wayne's damn butler would-" He froze, eyes suddenly growing suspicious. "Did you hear that?"

Bruce had, though he'd been praying Celsius wouldn't notice. The SWAT team was good, but there simply wasn't a silent way to penetrate foot-thick barriers of solid ice, which Celsius had arranged in a perimeter around the 20th floor's entire office complex. Of course the team would know that too, which meant they wouldn't waste any time. . .

Bruce had just enough presence of mind to close his eyes before the flash grenade went off. Still, the reflected glare of the ice wall blocking the window nearly blinded him through his eyelids, the stark relief of tiny capillaries standing out in the intense light.

"Freeze!" screamed the lead man, assault rifle aimed and ready. Bruce silently cursed the fact that he and Alfred's plan had apparently been overruled. This would complicate things. . .

"Hands on your head!" yelled the other team members, pouring in through the breached door and taking up positions around the area. Some had their assault rifles still trained on Celsius, while others were busy trying to help the hostages exfiltrate. Textbook procedure, and it would even have worked against a normal human.

But Celsius was something else entirely, and suddenly things began to spin completely out of control. The lead man on the SWAT team was the first to die, impaled by an icicle that seemed to materialize from Celsius' outstretched hand. A second commando was able to get off a few shots before he met the same fate, none of which connected. Celsius then flash-froze a solid wall in front of him, blocking the barrage of bullets that came from the remainder of the team.

With the new ice wall, he and Bruce were effectively separated from the SWAT team. Celsius turned to Bruce, a dangerous grin on his face. "Whelp, looks like the boys in blue don't give a rat's ass whether you live or die Mr. Wayne!" He leapt over to Bruce's chair and yanked him upright, not even noticing the fact that the billionaire's improvised restraints had vanished. "Time for a little trip, wouldn't you say?"

He gestured toward the ice on the window, which seemed to magically recede at his command. The supercooled glass only needed a tap to break into a million pieces, allowing the cool night air to rush in around them.

"Don't," said Bruce.

Celsius just laughed as he leapt, pulling Bruce into a freefall with him twenty stories above the solid concrete below.

* * *

"Wonder Woman to Watchtower, I've just pulled into the downtown Gotham district. From what I'm picking up on police channels, there is currently a rescue attempt underway. I'll have a visual on the building in just a second."

"Understood," J'onn responded over the communicator. "Report as soon as you gain any new information."

"Yup." Diana went down to a low glide as the Wayne Tower came into view. There was a huge crowd of spectators and media gathered outside, being ineffectually held back by the overwhelmed police force. Large spotlights had been mounted on the adjacent buildings, their powerful beams trained on one window behind which Wonder Woman assumed the hostage situation was unfolding. Two GCPD helicopters are circled around overhead, occasionally sweeping their own lights over other areas of the building.

Wonder Woman glanced back up at the window, which was completely opaque due to the sheet of ice behind it. What the hell could be going on in there, and more importantly how we she be able to help? She'd never personally had dealings with Celsius, but Frostbite, a notorious member of the League's rogues gallery, had similar powers and that woman had been a nightmare to deal with. Hopefully this guy wasn't as powerful. . .

She heard something very faint on her communicator's automatic survey of police bands. She closed her eyes, straining to hear what it was and as such almost missed the incredible sequence of events that unfolded.

First, the window shattered, the ice behind it having disappeared. Then two figures _flew_ out of the exposed opening, trailed by a shower of broken glass. Celsius and. . .

"Bruce!" Diana cried. She flew for all she was worth, zooming toward the rapidly falling duo. What a lunatic this guy was, jumping out of a skyscraper! Straining even more, she closed the distance between them in fractions of a second. Time itself seemed to slow, her hurtling toward Bruce and Celsius to intercept them before they hit the ground. She reached out at the last moment, trying to grab Bruce's hand. Their fingertips brushed.

And then she got hit by what felt like the entire continent of Antarctica rolled up into a blast of the most intense cold she'd ever felt. It made the low temperatures outside seem tropical by comparison. She was knocked away, frozen in a block of ice that dropped like a rock toward the ground.

Celsius laughed and then before impact formed an ice bridge that met them from the ground up, carrying him and Bruce over the heads of astonished onlookers and toward one of Gotham's main overpasses. "First name basis with Wonder Woman, huh," he quipped as he sent out dozens of ice pylons supporting his makeshift mobile bridge. "Haha, you dirty dog." They zoomed down the street on a platform of ice that moved as fast as he could form it. The spikes of ice that he generated to support it were devastating, ramming through automobiles, pavement, sidewalk, and even some of the street-level businesses.

Bruce responded by punching Celsius in the throat. The supervillian's eyes comically widened, all the better to see the leaping snap kick that knocked him off of the ice bridge and onto the pavement eight feet below.

Bruce himself landed considerably more gracefully, martial arts training allowing him to economically absorb most of the impact. But even as he landed, his mind was already focused on putting as much distance between himself and Celsius as possible. Those blows hadn't taken the man out, and with his powers. . .

Celsius rose unsteadily to his feet, a hand going to his bruised throat. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you," he rasped menacingly as he stretched out his hand.

Bruce dodged just in time to avoid being decapitated by an ice blast. He leapt over a nearby parked car and darted into a nearby alley, Celsius hot in pursuit. Seeing a lone dumpster ahead, he jumped behind it. Another blast rocked the makeshift shield, sending icicles clawing out past the edge. Bruce prepared to move, which was one he realized just how badly in trouble he was.

"Dead end, genius," Celsius laughed, strolling casually down the alley. "Honestly, I'd like to take my time with this but the cops are gonna be here and soon and it's pretty obvious I won't be getting my ransom anyway. So your death'll just have to be short and horrible instead of long and drawn out."

Bruce stood from behind the Dumpster with his hands up. "Look, I can still get you your money-" he was silenced by a chilling blast that encased him in ice from the neck down. He gasped from the pain and the cold. "Please."

Celsius rolled his eyes. "Pathetic. First you go and _slug_ me, which made me think you might actually have some stones after all. But then you gotta go ruining it with this sniveling, begging nonsense." As he spoke, a blade of ice began to form in his hand. Wickedly curved and lethal, like a translucent scimitar. "But hey, at least they'll be able to say you died on your feet."

Suddenly the timid expression on Bruce's face evaporated, replaced by a smirk. "Wondered when you'd get here."

"Who are you-" the 'talking to?' portion of Celsius' question was cut short by the 140 pounds of pissed-off Amazon that landed on him, slamming him into ground with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary to render him completely unconscious.

Diana wasted no time in rushing to Bruce's aid. With a powerful punch she shattered the ice around his body, praying it wasn't too late. Despite his bravado he was looking pretty pale, and unlike her he didn't have superhuman durability and recovery.

With the ice gone, Bruce swayed unsteadily before collapsing into Diana's arms. She squeezed him tight to share some of her warmth. Weakly, he returned the embrace, shivering violently despite himself. She planted a grateful kiss on his temple, resting her cheek against his jaw.

"Ambulances should be here in less than a minute," she murmured. "Celsius caused a lot of damage with that ice bridge of his, left a trail of injuries and destroyed property. And carried you nearly half a mile in the process."

Bruce said something so faint that Diana could barely make it out. "What was that Bruce?"

She could feel his slight smile against her cheek. "I said, thank you. You saved my life."

Diana pulled back so she could see his face. "I was so worried, Bruce, I thought-"

"I know," he said. "We can talk about it tonight."

"Tonight. . ?"

He coughed as another spasm hit. "That is, unless you plan on standing me up."

"_No_- no. . . it's just with everything-"

"I can handle it," he assured her. "But you need to go. This place is about to be a media firestorm and we both know how much you hate even getting your picture taken." Even as he said this, emergency and police vehicles were pulling up, sirens blaring. Overhead, half a dozen helicopters or more were circling, mostly media trying to get a shot of the celebrity billionaire and the big name superheroine who'd come to Gotham City.

Diana seemed to hesitate, so Bruce stepped back, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Go. But expect your doorbell to ring at about eight, okay."

She nodded. "I'll. . .see you then."

He gave her a quick wink, and then turned to the approaching swarm of police, medics, and reporters.

Diana reluctantly ascended up into the air, flying away too fast for any of the news choppers to even get a fix on her. She keyed her communicator on. "Wonder Woman reporting in. Situation successfully resolved."

"I noticed, " replied J'onn dryly. "Good job, Diana. Do you wish to be beamed up now?"

"No," she said, "I think I'll just head back down to my condo."

"Well get some rest. You've earned it. Watchtower out."

The line went dead and Diana flew toward her home in the next city, her thoughts preoccupied of course with the enigmatic Bruce Wayne.

* * *

**A/N:** This story is basically a birthday gift for a friend of mine. She'd never really gotten into Justice League before, but over the course of the past month we've made it through most of the episodes and now she's a diehard fan (and BM/WW shipper as well). Nothing long, just a two-part fic about Bruce and Diana making the most out of New Year's Eve. I thought it would be interesting to invert the damsel in distress trope on this one, which is where the whole hostage plotline comes from.

Those discerning comic book aficionados might notice that my bumbling supervillain, Celsius, really isn't all that original. In the comics, Celsius was actually the name of a superheroine who also had thermal control powers. _My_ Celsius is in no way intended to reflect upon that one (really, he's just the worst sort of one-dimensional plot device thrown in to move the story along. Plus I needed an excuse for that 'share-my-body-heat' cuddling scene at the end of Part I).

Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think, and the second and final chapter of this little ficcie will be posted in the next few days . Constructive critiques always welcome, and I hope you enjoyed!

**P.S.** the quote at the beginning, for any lovers of poetry out there, is from a Robert Frost poem called Fire and Ice. It's a favorite poem of mine and was even going to provide the title of the story, until I realized that people might confuse it with the actual JL'ers Fire and Ice.


	2. Chapter 2

Gordon had always known that the media would be all over this situation. But as much as he appreciated Wonder Woman's help, her showing up in Gotham added an entirely new dimension to the story. Namely: paparazzi. CNN, he could handle but the tabloids smelled _blood_. Those guys would leap over barriers, cut through wire fences, and break into private and government property, anything for a juicy story. Hell, he could almost see the Enquirer headlines. . ._Wonder Woman Rescues Lover Bruce Wayne_, or _Billionaire's Amazonian Affair: His Best Catch Yet?_

He took a quick glance at Bruce, sitting in the backseat of the Crown Vic he was driving back to headquarters. The other man was wrapped in a thermal blanket, a thermos of warm apple cider clutched in both hands. Still, he looked pretty robust for someone caught on the wrong end of one of Celsius' ice blasts.

"You might as well ask me, since we both know you're dying to," Bruce said, taking a quick sip of the cider.

Gordon cleared his throat. "Alright then, what was the deal with Wonder Woman showing up?"

"I have no idea- honestly I thought you'd called her."

"Right," snorted Gordon sarcastically. "I have a world-famous superheroine at my beck and call. I wish."

"Well, I for one, am just grateful she showed up at all," replied Bruce. "I think I'll leave it at that."

Gordon turned into the precinct parking lot, outside of which dozens of paparazzi and reporters eagerly awaited a shot at the most talked-about news item of the day. "Look, Bruce, I don't care whether you and Wonder Woman have a thing goin' on or not. And even if I did, it's none of my business. But you might want to consider how you're gonna address it to all these guys out here with cameras and microphones. Because I guarantee you, they're reading a lot more into this than a simple hostage rescue. And they're not going away until they get something." He parked, took the keys out and unlocked the doors. "Anyway, let's go and get this debriefing over with. I'd hate to miss New Year's with my daughter on _your _account."

Bruce's face settled into the vacuous, generic smile that he tended to wear in public. "Agreed."

They stepped out, and were immediately greeted by an audible increase in chatter and excitement. Montoya, Bullock, and some of the other officers on duty had already arrived and were trying their best to keep the media at bay. "C'mon," Gordon said urgently as he and Bruce made their way to the station house. At first they were able to avoid any direct intrusions, but it soon became clear that despite the department's best efforts they weren't getting inside anytime soon.

"Bruce!" yelled one reporter. "How long have you and Wonder Woman been dating?"

"Bruce, are you worried about Batman? Some might say you're encroaching on his turf!" came another query. They were joined by scores of other questions, many of which concerned a possible relationship between Bruce Wayne and Wonder Woman.

"Bruce! Any comments on the baby bump that a certain Amazon seems to be showing?" demanded one particularly obnoxious paparazzo with greasy, receding hair, days' worth of unkempt stubble, and a trench coat that looked like something from a bad Matrix spoof. _Baby bump?_ Bruce thought. _You must be joking._

He took the man's camera and in one deft motion turned it around and pressed the capture button. Blinded by his own flash, the man stumbled back in a stream of obscenities. Bruce had switched focus though, now turning back to the rest of the media. "Listen!" he said loudly. "I'd like to make a statement!"

This shut everyone up pretty quickly. Even Gordon looked surprised.

"The relationship between myself and Wonder Woman is that of friendly acquaintances," he said. "Nothing more. I have had the privilege of meeting her in the past, but to say that this gave rise to anything more than casual friendship would be grossly inaccurate. Furthermore, while I am extremely grateful for her aid and rescue during tonight's ordeal, her actions were consistent with her duties as a member of the Justice League and nothing more. Now if you will excuse me, it's New Year's Eve and I doubt any of us wants the past hours' events to taint this day any more than they already have." With that, he pushed past the gaggle of speechless reporters at the door and went inside, a stunned Gordon behind him.

"Well said," remarked the Commissioner once they were safely inside. "And now here we are. I don't think you've ever been to this new facility, but it was built with a generous donation from Wayne Enterprises. Thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem." Actually, Bruce had been there before on many occasions. Or Batman had, anyway. "How long is this debriefing going to take, by the way?"

"Not long," said Gordon as they entered the interview room. "My daughter Barbara is cooking up her famous lasagna, stuff makes grown men weep it's so good. As I'm sure you can imagine I'm in as much a hurry to get out of here as you. Thankfully, the feds came by for our boy Celsius , took him off our hands. Otherwise I'd probably be spending the night just making sure he didn't the lockup into a damn snowglobe." He paused. "Don't suppose _you_ have a special someone you're looking to spend New Year's Eve with."

Bruce gave one of his half-smiles. "Something like that."

* * *

Diana's bedroom was a mess. In short, most of the contents of her closet were now haphazardly thrown around the floor, bed, and furniture. A casualty of her frenzied search for the perfect outfit to wear on the night's date. Or whatever it was supposed to be.

Luckily, her search had yielded some serviceable results. The first try, a designer dress by some famous Kasnian fashion guru, was ruled out almost immediately. It was a gorgeous black off-the-shoulder number and its effect on most men was nothing short of spellbinding. But Bruce wasn't most men, and as good as the dress looked it was a real pain to wear. Far too much hassle for the moment.

She finally settled on a deep red sleeveless turtleneck with a black miniskirt and matching comfortable black flats. Rummaging through her jewelry box, she even found a pair of corkscrew earrings to go with ensemble, and a gold bracelet (another gift from her good friend Princess Audrey). She reminded herself to thank the Kasnian regent later (if all went well that night).

She ran to the mirror that hung on the inside of the bedroom door, turning to one side and then the other. It was a much different look than her battle outfit, she barely recognized herself. But it was okay, she genuinely liked the full-length reflection she saw. Simple, yet sexy and sophisticated. Oh, something would have to be done about the hair, and maybe a hint of makeup wouldn't hurt either. But things were shaping up nicely. . .

A quick glance at her watch confirmed the time. 7:45 to be exact. _Damn_. More rummaging for the curling iron she never used. This would be cutting it close. . .

* * *

"You're late," laughed Timothy Drake, standing in the doorway while Bruce finished shaving. The billionaire paused to shoot a scowl at his young ward, who just chuckled some more. "You know, that glare is a lot more potent without the shaving cream in the way.

"Whatever. I'm not late," Bruce said dismissively.

"15 minutes to finish getting ready and drive all the way to her place in this weather says you are."

Bruce arched an eyebrow at the young man. "Funny," he muttered. "You being so helpful now as opposed to when I was stuck in the Tower with a psychopathic-"

"_Not_ fair," protested Tim. "You know I was on a coach bus coming from that internship thing!"

"Relax, I'm kidding." Bruce washed his face, rinsed, and threw on some aftershave for good measure. He was wearing jeans and casual Gucci loafers, but hadn't yet selected a shirt. Hurriedly, he made his way to the bedroom closet where he pulled out the first two shirts to catch his eye. He turned around. "Which one?"

"Umm, I don't know _you're_ the rich playboy, remember?"

"So the black button-down then?"

"Yep."

Bruce threw the garment on, not even bothering to completely unbutton it first. He glanced sharply back at Tim, something having occurred to him. "No parties in the mansion while I'm gone."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Like Alfred would ever let me get away with that one. Besides, you're not gonna be gone all night-" A speculative gleam in his eye, "or _are_ you?"

Bruce snorted, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "First, I'm bringing her back here. Second, it's not like that."

"Sure it's not. Hey, maybe it's me who should be having the talk with you. Remember to be safe big guy, and-"

This time when Bruce used the Batglare, it worked. Throwing on his coat, he asked, "By the way, what _are_ your plans for tonight?"

Tim smiled triumphantly. "Same as yours Bruce. I got a date."

* * *

Diana checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Then her cell phone. Even the clock on the microwave. They all said the same thing, and as a result she was waiting on pins and needles on the couch, perking up every time a stray car drove past. Bruce was late, which wasn't like him but she told herself that if anyone deserved some slack it was him, especially after what he'd been through.

The TV was on, and the only thing covered by the local news station was the Gotham hostage story. Lots of speculation and few facts, though the footage of Bruce and the Police Commissioner entering the precinct station. The questions thrown at poor Bruce were almost funny, though she'd felt like punching the sleazy 'reporter' who'd tried to insinuate that she was pregnant with Bruce's illegitimate child. '_Baby bump' my ass._

Truth be told, his adamant denial of any romantic feelings for Wonder Woman was hard to dismiss as easily. Certainly the man was a polished actor and the statement had been necessary to ease the media frenzy. But he didn't have to sound so. . ._believable._

The sound of another car driving by. Except this time it stopped in front of the condo. Being in the second floor unit, she could easily hear the sounds of a vehicle pulling over and parking. She peeked out the window, just once. It was a brand new Lexus- easily the most valuable car on the entire block. It was him!

_Calm down_, she thought, which somehow seemed to make her heart beat even faster. _It's just a. . .oh Gods, is that lint? I knew I should have gone with the denim skirt! _Dammit_, what if he notices and-_

Any further panicking was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer. It snapped her back to reality. Reaching over, she pressed the intercom. "Who is it?"

"Bruce." One word, said warmly in that comforting deep voice of his. Part of her seemed to melt just by hearing it, she thought. It was incredibly sappy, but. . .hell maybe she _did_ have it that bad.

She cleared her throat. Pressed the second button which unlocked the outside door, and heard the unmistakable click of someone entering. Closing her eyes, she counted off ten seconds in her head. The she stood up, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

* * *

"I'm sorry," was the first thing Bruce said, the words sounding a lot more rushed than they had when he'd practiced in the car. At Diana's look of confusion he tried to elaborate. "For being late, that it. _Is_. I mean. . ." he trailed off hopelessly. _Smooth, Bruce._

Diana looked a bit puzzled. She stepped aside. "Um, no problem. Would you like to come in?"

Bruce nodded, resisting the urge to talk until he was sure he could do so without embarrassing himself. She looked different, that was for damn sure. She was wearing those stylish, designer glasses you see in commercials but never in real life. Her hair had been teased into gentle curls that perfectly framed her face. Her attire wasn't flashy but it wasn't easy to ignore either. Wonder Woman. . .no, Diana, looked gorgeous in the way that few of even the celebrities he encountered could pull off.

"I figured I'd try a new style," said Diana. Clearly his frank admiration hadn't gone unnoticed.

He smiled. "You should keep that one, you look beautiful."

"Thank you," she said, smiling back. The ice broken, she clapped her hands together. "So, this movie. . ."

"Oh. Right! I actually have it right here. . ." He fumbled in his pocket until he found what he was looking for. "X-Terminators 2. " He pulled out the DVD case and handed it to her.

Diana arched an eyebrow. "What's it about?"

"Um, a group of super-powered misfits who have a school-"

"A school?"

"Yep. A school where they learn to control their powers and reach out to a world that hates and fears them and so on. Basically they run around fighting other super-powered misfits. And the government, from time to time. It was a pretty high-grossing movie actually. It had that one Australian actor-"

"Oh yeah, him." Diana laughed. "I love him. Why are they all wearing leather though?"

"Couldn't really tell you. I guess it's their battle uniform."

"Fighting? In leather? If you say so. . ." She peered at him over the glasses. "Do _you_ wear leather in this movie?"

"No," he snorted. "It's just a cameo. And like I said it wasn't even my idea. The director wanted to film in Gotham and use some interior shorts of the Wayne Tower, and things just sort of evolved from there."

Diana nodded, handing the case back to Bruce. "Sounds fascinating." She started to go look for her coat but then froze, a novel thought having struck her. "In fact. . .I have an idea."

"Shoot."

Diana just stared in response to the unfamiliar slang.

"I mean, what's your idea?"

Diana gestured to her the plush, comfortable-looking sofa that sat directly across from the big flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. "I don't get to use it much, but I do have a home theater system right here. We could just stay here and watch it, instead of having to go all the way back into Gotham."

Bruce shrugged. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No, not at all. Here, let me get your coat." Diana insisted, feeling pretty pleased with herself for having come up with the idea. The nervousness hadn't completely gone away, but having the home field advantage (so to speak) certainly helped. She moved swiftly behind him to help him with his coat , noticing a few things of interest as she did do. One, he smelled really good. An intimate, subtle cologne that up close made her start smiling involuntarily. Two, the muscles in his back and arms that her fingers brushed lightly against were perfect. Defined. He exuded the grace and power of the best athletes, which combined with his otherwise sophisticated dress and demeanor was the sexiest thing Diana could remember coming across in recent memory. She wanted to run her hands over those arms and then turn him around. . .

What she did was back away with his coat and hang it on the wall. "So, what do you say?"

Bruce looked around, a contented smile on his face. "Sounds good to me. Much easier that way."

"Good. Now I only have one rule right now."

"Oh?"

"Do not, under _any_ circumstances go in the bedroom," Diana said gravely.

Bruce nodded innocently, looking for all the world like he wasn't even interesting in doing so. It fooled Diana for just a second, which was all it took. Suddenly, a mischievous smirk took over and he darted for the door, starting to turn it. Diana was there in an instant, her eyes flashing. "Don't even think about it. I swear I'll knock you so far away you'll be in a different time zone when you wake- hey!"

Bruce had gone and opened it anyway, revealing the chaotic mess of clothes and hangers that was her room. He let out a low whistle. "Now I _am_ scared. Just don't do to me what you did to that room."

"Oh. Hilarious." It was one of the first times she'd ever used playful sarcasm (the concept being rather obscure where she came from) but she was surprised at how easily she seemed to be able to go back and forth with Bruce."

He wasn't smirking anymore, but there was still a definite twinkle in his eye. "You're not really gonna throw me into a different, time zone, are you?"

"Maybe not, but I could certainly make you wish you were in one."

"Oh, I doubt that."

"Why?"

"Cuz then I wouldn't be in this one," he said simply. "With you."

Diana tried to school the rush of pleasure at his words from her features. It was a losing battle, major blush coming on, but then she was quite literally saved by the bell. Or the tone anyway, of her cell phone. A text?

She flipped it open and sure enough, from Dinah a message that read_: Bet he kisses you when the clock strikes twelve ;)._

Bruce walked over, seemingly nonplussed at the very flirtatious comment he'd just made. "You text now? Cultural assimilation at its finest I guess. Who's it from?"

This time, Diana did blush. A deep, deep red. "That is absolutely none of your business," she snipped, quickly shutting the phone.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. "You're right, sorry." He really didn't have to look so amused about it though. "One thing, why is it so cold in here?"

Diana almost objected, but then it hit her that he would indeed be feeling a little cold. Her body's homeostasis was sufficiently accelerated to allow for a much lower thermal tolerance threshold . She kept her apartment at something like sixty degrees because it eliminated the need to pay a heating bill. Hell, if she could fly at near-arctic altitudes in glorified bathing suit, a thermostat on its cooler setting was nothing.

That didn't help Bruce though, so she raised a finger in the universal gesture of 'I'll be right back' and proceeded to scurry into her bedroom. Seconds later she emerged with a large, pink throw blanket in one hand. She tossed it to him. "There we go."

He laughed. Tossed it back. "In your dreams."

A theatrical sigh. "I figured you would say as much." She pulled a second, brown blanket from behind her back and approached close enough to give it to him. "Will this do? After all you've been through we wouldn't you to catch pneumonia on accident now."

"I do believe you're making fun of me, Diana."

"Well, that's one word for it."

"And what's another?"

_Flirting_, she thought. "Just making an innocent observation," she said. "Now hurry up and sit down so we can start this movie." She plucked the case from Bruce's hand, simultaneously giving him a (relatively) gentle tap on the chest that nonetheless plopped him right down on the couch. "Now letsee, DVD in the slot like so. . .TV on. . ." she gave a sharp clap and the room went dark, save the TV's glow. "Lights out. . .alright, feature presentation."

She sat down next to Bruce as the movie began playing, its epic orchestral soundtrack filling the room. He offered her the end of the blanket and she accepted, pulling in even closer to his solid frame. She'd pictured this scenario many times in the past week, albeit in the Wayne Manor and not her very own home. Somehow, she'd always thought the proximity would be awkward. But it wasn't. Not at all.

The movie itself was interesting enough. Good special effects, though she couldn't help but dislike one character that had powers almost identical to Celsius'. Even her natural resistance to cold hadn't stopped that ice blast of his from hurting like all Hades. She jabbed Bruce in the ribs when the particular cold-wielding superhero came onscreen, and he laughed. Not out loud, but her head had somehow come to rest on his shoulder and she could feel the rumble of his concealed laughter. It was so at odds with his Batman persona, a side of him that she hadn't even realized she'd been missing.

Bruce looked down and gave her a gentle nudge. "Not going to sleep on me are you?"

"No, no. . .just thinking."

"Well good, because my cameo's coming up." He gestured to the screen. "Recognize that building?"

Her head came up, alert. "Of course! It looks different in the daytime though, without all the spotlights."

"Yep. Aaand there goes yours truly, for the best fifteen seconds of this movie."

"Ha. You look different. " She peered closer. "Wait, is Bruce Wayne wearing _makeup_?"

"No! I- Okay maybe a little. . ."

Diana burst out in laughter, throwing her head back. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the not-unpleasant fact that Bruce had but his arm around the back of her seat. Very smooth, though she didn't mind in the slightest.

* * *

The cameo came and went, and the rest of the movie proceeded like most of those in its genre. Epic battle scenes and huge set pieces that for the most part kept Diana riveted until the very end. She felt a very real sense of disappointment when the final credits rolled, like being on an amazing roller coaster that's just come to a halt. Staying there, tucked under Bruce's arm for the rest of the whole rest of the night would have been quite nice, actually.

Encouragingly, he didn't seem too eager to break the spell they'd wound around themselves over the past two hours any more than she did. The screen went blank, and there they sat. Cuddled under a blanket on her reclining sofa.

"Hey," she finally murmured, poking him gently in the ribs, "you're not going to sleep on me are you?"

"Nope. Just thinking." He smiled and they both had a small laugh over that. "It's almost New Year's you know."

"When?"

He spared a glance a glance at his watch. Whistled. "Only a half hour from now."

"That soon? Wow." A pause. "You know we Amazons don't celebrate the New Year, right?"

"Really?" he sounded curious.

"Nope. Well, not as such anyway. It's a consequence of the enchantments that Aphrodite originally put on Themyscira. There are no regular seasonal changes, and the night sky remains forever fixed. Plus we're immortal. Even if we wanted to record the New Year, from the island there's no visible entity to base it off of. Ergo, no New Year's."

"That's so tragic," Bruce commented.

"Why, do you think we're missing out?"

"Absolutely."

She sat up a bit so she could look at him. "Oh? And what about you, Mr. Billionaire Playboy? Surely you're missing out too. All the parties and clubs you could be attending right now instead of watching a movie you've seen a million times already-"

"Not with you though. That part's kind of important I think. Certainly more so than some lame parties and overpriced clubs."

Diana laughed. "You make me sound like the best movie date in the world." No sooner had the word 'date' left her mouth than she realized what she had just implicitly acknowledged. She gulped, wondering if he would comment on the terminology.

He didn't. Just laughed one of those enigmatic laughs of his and slowly stood up, stretching out his limbs. "If I thought there was a better place for me to be right now than here, I'd be there," he said simply. "S'all there is to it. That said, if we're gonna celebrate New Year's together we're doing it right. I have some champagne in the car. No wineglasses-"

"I have those," she provided.

"Right, well that works out perfect. I'll just go get the bottles from my car right quick and we'll be set."

Diana rose too, giving a quick nod. Her turtleneck was a bit rumpled, despite her efforts to smooth it out. Still, there were worse ways to have that happen. She retrieved her house key from the kitchen counter and tossed the ring to Bruce, who snatched it deftly out of the air. "Be back in just a bit," he said as he vanished through the doorway.

Diana counted out three seconds, then whipped out her phone and began furiously dialing. It was ringing. She looked out of the window and saw that Bruce hadn't even made it outside yet. C'mon, pick up.

Dinah answered on the third ring. "Y'ello."

"It's Diana."

"Heyyy, Bruce there?"

"No, he's outside getting some champagne from his car."

"What? Where are you?"

"My house I suggested we just watch the movie here because- well, never mind that's not important. I got your text though." She took a deep breath. "What does that mean?"

"I. . .thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

"No, I mean, kissing on New Year's Eve, when the midnight strikes. Is that something people do? Often?"

"Hell yeah! It's a tradition. You gotta kiss someone on New Year's Eve." Dinah sounded downright conspiratorial on the other end. "Think he'll go for it?"

"I don't know. He did get pretty cozy during the movie, and I'm picking up this vibe that maybe he's feeling the same way I am. I can't explain it, it's just the stuff he's been saying and the _way_ he's been saying- oh shoot, he's on his way back inside!"

"Well you better get off the phone then," Dinah laughed. "But from what I'm hearing it's gonna be a big night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"But you'd do just about-"

"_Exactly_." Dinah laughed again. "Happy New Year's girl."

"You too." She flipped it shut just as Bruce came walking in the door, cradling a bottle of expensive-looking champagne. He checked his watch again. "Twenty minutes. You want to do the honors?"

"Certainly." She led him into the kitchen, where after a minimal amount of searching she was able to locate the wine glasses. "So," she said while pouring their drinks, "since I'm new to the whole New Year's Eve celebration. . .any traditions I should know about?"

"Champagne's a big one. Especially-"

"I know about that," she said impatiently. "Any. . .others?"

Bruce just shrugged. "Nothing off the top of my head."

"Oh." It was hard not to sound disappointed. "Well, here we are. Twenty minutes to the New Year."

"Nineteen."

"I stand corrected." She took a sip out of her glass, unwilling to acknowledge that it was also the first time she'd ever had champagne. It was interesting, sweet and sour and dry and bubbly all at the same time. Different, but nice. She took another sip, murmuring her approval.

"Genuine champagne," Bruce informed her. "Manufactured in the Champagne region of France. 900 dollars a bottle."

"That's almost obscenely expensive," Diana remarked. "You were carrying this in your car?"

"Well, I did buy for tonight. I just never got around to taking it out of the car until now."

"Bruce, you shouldn't have," she sighed, sitting down at the small table.

"To the contrary." Bruce pulled up a chair of his own. "You see, when I'm Bruce Wayne, I find myself having to splurge on a lot of things that are almost unconscionable. Million-dollar parties, unnecessary yachts, art collections that cost a small fortune. . .it's all part of the cover and it's all bullshit, really. But unfortunately that's just the way the world works. Us 'billionaire playboys' play the role to a T, and pretend to have a blast doing it.

"So when I get the chance to spend a little extra on someone whom I actually do care about, for something where I get to be the real 'me'. . .there's no way I'm going to pass that up. "

The little voice in Diana's head said, _Yeah, he definitely likes you too_. She flashed a huge smile at the words and lifted her glass in toast form. "To splurging," she said, "on the people we care about."

"Hear, hear."

They downed that drink and then another two during the next fifteen minutes. They laughed and chatted about various topics ranging from the Celsius fiasco to the fact that Huntress and Question needed to stop using JL communicators for personal conversations (by now, half the League had a horror story of accidentally tuning into one of their 'chat sessions').

"Though you know," Diana was saying, "for a guy with no face he certainly proposes some interesting things. . ."

Bruce's eyes widened comically at the surprisingly prurient joke. "I think my appetite's been murdered."

Diana affected her most innocent look. "Just an observation. By the way, how much time left?"

"Only. . .wow, one minute. Back to the couch. We have to watch the ball drop."

Even Diana knew what that was, and while the spectacle of dropping a giant ball to commemorate the New Year had always seemed a bit silly, the couch was a lot more comfortable and a lot less cold. Bruce had been trying not to show it but without the blanket he was still giving off the odd shiver or two.

So it was back to the TV and the couch and the blanket. Bruce seemed to have an infectious excitement, and now so close to the moment Diana could tell that New Year's was a really big deal for him. He put an arm around her, pulling the blanket tight around them. "Thirty seconds," he breathed, his eyes nonetheless riveted to the screen. "You have to count down too, okay?"

"Okay," she laughed. "Twenty-eight, Twenty-seven-"

"No, not yet! When it gets to ten."

"How old are you again?"

"How old are _you_ again?"

"Touché. . .oh! Here we go." She reached up to her shoulder and gave his hand a squeeze. "Ten."

"Nine," he continued, matching her word for word.

"Eight," they continued in unison. "Seven, Six, Five Four, Three, Two. . ."

"One!"

"Happy New Year's!" proclaimed the celebrity hosting the big countdown. Diana could barely hear him over her and Bruce's own exultations. He didn't kiss her, but they shared an incredibly warm embrace. And then he was standing, dragging her up with him. He was twirling her around in some dance pattern that Diana strongly suspected he was inventing on the spot. Not that she cared. She was smiling and laughing and having the time of her life, while some techno remix of 'The New Year's Song' played in the background.

Finally, they collapsed back on the couch, out of breath. Bruce looked at her with a wry smile. "You must think I'm a maniac," he finally managed.

"Naturally," Diana replied, propping her chin on his shoulder. "I also think it's one of the only times I've ever seen you have fun. Honestly, I had no idea you were that excited about New Years."

"Well, it used to be a tradition. Back when I was a kid. Mother and Father and I, we'd say the countdown in hushed voices and then throw confetti and laugh and dance. . .play crazy music. He'd pick me up and zoom me around the room like an airplane, sound effects and all."

She squeezed his hand once more, a comforting gesture. "Well, some traditions should never die."

"Agreed," said Bruce. Truth be told, he wasn't sure where the familial anecdote had come from. It was something he'd never shared with anyone. A piece of his once-idyllic life that tended to get lost under all of the pain and trial he had endured since. That he'd been able to tell Diana without a second thought was an observation that led to some distinctly unfamiliar territory. He filed it away for later, but decided to change the subject for now. He glanced sideways at the Amazon. "So, you saw my little impromptu interview earlier?"

"Yes."

"Ah. Well just so you know. . .you mean a lot more to me than a casual acquaintance, or whatever bullshit I was feeding the reporters to get them off my back."

She closed her eyes. "I know, Bruce. And I can hardly blame you. The ridiculous questions they were asking- baby bumps and all that. . ." she shook her head in disbelief, only to give out a startled yelp when he poked her in the stomach.

"Ticklish much?"

"What the hell was that?"

The mischievous grin made a comeback. "Just checking. You're good though." The smile widened to Cheshire-esque proportions. "No baby bump."

Conventionally, tackling someone you're sitting right next to should be a rather difficult maneuver to pull off, but Diana was in rare form. She wrestled him straight off the couch and onto the floor, straddling and effectively pinning him down with her bodyweight and her viselike grip on each arm. "Bruce Thomas Wayne," she said in a low and precise voice, leaning down so far that their noses were almost touching, "if you ever use those words and refer to me in the same sentence I'll throw you so far into orbit-_mmmmmph_!"

Bruce kissed her. Pure impulse, he just craned up and covered her mouth with his, effectively cutting short whatever threat she'd been in the process of making. Her eyes went huge, her grip on his hands faltering. Then those beautiful lashes fluttered and closed as she relented, even deepening the kiss. Her hands trailed invisible lines over his arms, her long fingers splaying out over his chest as she lowered herself to meet him.

It was pure bliss. The sensation was. . .Diana could barely think in syllables, much less words to describe it. His strong hands had circled around to her back, pressing her against him with a delicious urgency as they explored one another. The new mouth. . .taste. . .feel. It was one helluva first kiss.

Diana was the first to break it coming up for air. Her breaths were ragged, her cheeks flushed. Her hair was all over the place, little wisps falling in front of her eyes and nose. She propped herself up on her elbows, still straddling Bruce in the middle of the living room floor. She could hear his heart hammering- or was it hers? Both of theirs probably.

Bruce reached up and brushed a strand of hair from in front of her face. Words, they seemed so elusive now. But she looked more gorgeous than ever. He stroked her cheek, his thumb running along the line of her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth. His eyes never left hers.

"Where did that come from?" asked a bewildered Diana at last. She was trying to gauge his reaction to the kiss, but damn if he wasn't as hard to read as ever. Which wasn't really fair, considering he was the one who'd kissed her in the first place.

"I don't know really know," Bruce admitted. "But I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

Diana leaned back in. Kissed him quickly but tenderly, then pulled back a fraction of an inch. "Well you should've."

* * *

The next one lasted even longer, which was all relative since neither one of them had been keeping track of the time. This kiss went deeper, a more practiced exploration. His hands were doing some interesting things on her back and then over the silky material of her skirt. Hers were freely roaming the taut musculature of his chest and arms. The physical strength and raw masculinity it exuded. Suddenly the shirt he was wearing was. . .annoying.

He should get out of it, she told him, playfully. It didn't look comfortable anyway.

But it was oh-so-cold, he teased back as they rolled on the carpeted floor. How would he stay warm?

This was dismissed out of hand. They could definitely come up with something, she assured him. If they put their minds to it. See, she didn't even need the turtleneck anymore. Gone, just like that. There was more than enough heat between the two of them, when it was distributed properly.

Bruce seemed to find this argument particularly persuasive. She definitely had a point, he conceded, planting firm, yet fleeting kisses along the base of her throat. The side of her neck. He was warming up already. . .

* * *

Dinah Lance aka the Black Canary, staggered out of bed the next morning like the sole survivor of a World War. Numbly, she showered, brushed her teeth, and trudged back into the bedroom. That tequila. . .she knew she shouldn't have let Ollie choose shots for her. It always came back in the mother of all hangovers the next morning.

Ollie was still asleep, passed out on his side of the bed without a care in the world. She leaned over the edge to plant an affectionate kiss on his cheek. They'd still had a blast at the New Year's party they'd attended, and she supposed a headache was a small price to pay for that. Still, it would help if the cell phone would stop glowing. Even that amount of light-

Wait. Glowing? She reached over and brushed her thumb across the touchscreen. A message, from Diana.

When she saw it she burst out laughing. "You go girl."

On the screen, a solitary, winking emoticon stared back:

**;)**

* * *

A/N: And that's all he wrote. I know it's short, but I guess I'm disproportionately excited because this is my first completed fic. Not much in the way of plot, I know. But if anything this was fun exercise in humanizing these larger-than-life superheroes and letting their civilians identities take the forefront.

I tried some different approaches to the narrative, for certain. A true grammarian would probably go into cardiac arrest from the sheer volume of linguistic liberties I've taken with punctuation and sentence formation, etc. So to those for whom that applies, my belated apologies. The same goes for any unintended spelling errors, or grammatical mistakes. This fic was rushed out in about a week, sans beta. I've tried to catch what I could but alas, to err is human. ;)

I'd like to thank those who've reviewed and showed interest in this fic, and hopefully I'll get to hear back from you all thoughts and comments about the conclusion. If anything, I should hope this helped to ease someone else's BM/WW fix.

And now, I return to hammering out the next chapter of my much longer/ more complicated fic The Prodigal. If you liked this one, I'd encourage you to check that out as well!

PS: You caught the satire right? X-Terminators. . .get it?

Just checking. s


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